


car parks and fresh coffee

by courtjester_sidechick



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Memories, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29107170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtjester_sidechick/pseuds/courtjester_sidechick
Summary: Arthur felt like he was being swallowed in his loss, the bittersweet memories kept him above the surface but he was continuously faced with the helplessness of wading water.Oh how he missed car parks and fresh coffee.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	car parks and fresh coffee

It hurt to sit there, not knowing. Not knowing how Merlin felt, his head twisted away. It was uncomfortable and frustrating to be unable to read his expression, to see the way his eye twitched or lip curled and know instinctively what that meant for him. For them. 

In the silence of the car, where the rain hitting the windscreen and then whirring of the AC was a little two loud. Arthur’s shifting on the material seats filled the emptiness, audible. 

Body curled, angling as if Merlin wanted nothing to do with Arthur ever again - it was hard to judge whether the heavy breathing was frustration pacing in his chest, or the heaving that came before sobbing.

Arthur couldn’t help but remember a time where they were happy in this car. The roof down, wind ruffling their hair, the radio on and blasting music far too loud, but most importantly his face was relaxed and open and Merlin’s body was leaning, always leaning, into his space. Arthur missed the sun on his face and the way the sea salt in the breeze rested on his skin, stretching his smile and putting a light in his eyes.

Arthur could only imagine that under the weak, yellow-toned, single street lamp in the wet, grey carpark - that that light was absent from Merlin’s eyes. His skin would be pale, mostly grey with shoots of purple and green littering the expanse. A weariness that came from a deep-bone-seated exhaustion. The kind that came from a lack of sleep and something deeper than that, those times where someone could sleep for days upon end and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. 

Nothing would. Not anymore.

Every other time they had been in the car, there had been a comfort that came from being in a confined space with one another. The air was always pleasantly warm, the radio happily crackling, the wind howling just beyond the window - nothing ever breaching their bubble of them, and only them.

A flinch ran through Arthur, even though he was the one who pushed down on the pedal - resulting in the sound that shook the car, a physical ripple smashing through the small piece of them that was still left. There was nothing more to do, to say - nothing could make it something better than the truly awful situation that it was. 

Hand on the gear stick, where their hands had joined so many times before, now cold and lonely, he sighed. Looking to the shape of the man he loved yesterday, probably still did today, but it was sharper, bitter and a little painful - “I’ll take you home.”

Because he wasn’t anymore. Arthur wasn’t home. Pulling the car into Merlin’s drive that he had thought of as a little bit his, well… it hurt. He knew he’d probably never return.

Merlin got out of the car. A figure in the rain, approaching the front door, frame tense. Hair wet and flattening to his head under the heavy pour. He didn’t look back. 

Not even as the headlights cast a shadow of his legs before he could fully slip inside.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. 

Days after and it still did.

Wrapped up in a duvet, feeling the grease layering his skin and the knots in his hair, Arthur wasn't even able to summon the energy to clench the material in his fist. He was so, so tired. 

His eyes burned and were heavy and he wanted to sleep so bad. But the sheet beneath him was too warm from his constant presence on it, and his pillows never felt clean no matter how many times he flipped them. Yet he felt too hollow to change the cases. 

The idea of getting up and washing, then replacing his bedding made him want to gag more than the staleness that came from his body when he shifted. His shower was just behind his door attached to his room yet it seemed so far, so far now that he knew he wouldn't have a text waiting for him when he came back.

Nothing would really change if he showered or if he decided to stay in bed. He would still feel absolutely numb, the water running into his eyes was too close to tears, they’d only dreg up the slightest of irritation as they stung and rolled over his skin. 

So staying where he was seemed for the best. Even though there were crumbs, from the last meal he could force himself to have before shuffling back under blankets - the weight of existing beyond them exhausting, sticking into his back. 

The TV was on. Arthur couldn't tell if it was a show he loved, liked, disliked or hated. It was hardly background noise, it felt like he was listening from under water. It was muffled, still too loud, but not loud enough to force him to get the remote. 

He should open a window. His room stunk of decay. A mix of him and days old food growing mould in a haphazard stack of bowls and plates, his closest attempt to cleaning in the past days. 

He didn't though. The handle was too far for him to reach from his lying position, he’d have to sit up. He closed his eyes and dreamt instead.

It wasn't that he missed Merlin, well he did, but... it had nothing to do with him really. Despite what Arthur had convinced himself, his world hadn't revolved around Merlin. Not entirely.

The days still would have passed and he still would have ended up feeling like this, it wasn't quite a seasonal thing but it happened frequently enough that he thought a punch card would've been useful. 

Feel absolutely nothing for days on end nine times and the universe will give you a free coffee. It should anyways. He could only take so many sips of his day old tea before he'd throw up. A fresh coffee would be appreciated.

The bitterness would provide a twisted nostalgia and he hoped that the caffeine could actually get through his system and give him the energy to do something other than sit and think.

His own company got sickening after a while, like sitting with your legs crossed for too long. A spiritual pins and needles.

When Arthur sent his attention to more than the whirlwind in his head, going round and round, making his head dizzy, he could feel his body ached. It needed to pop and be stretched, he knew his spine alone would crack in several places. 

But it was easy, too easy to ignore it all and just slightly tighten the duvet around him. Hoping, if that was even the right word, that it would all eventually just go away, and he would be in a car with the radio on and the wind in his hair.


End file.
